Robotech: Freedom Fighters
by Naia Zifu
Summary: A multi-part Invid-era fic originally written for the BPS publication
1. The Cave

Robotech Freedom Fighters  
by Naia Zifu  
  
Chapter One: The Cave  
  
It was a cold, crisp autumn day. Colourful leaves blanketed  
the ground and crunched beneath the wheels of our ATVs. Our red Alpha,  
configured to guardian mode, hovered silently a few feet above the ground at  
the end of our convoy. The Cyclones we'd just scavenged, heavily damaged  
from the shipwreck we'd found them in, lay hidden under a tarp on the back  
of the flatbed. Everyone was on constant guard for Invid activity. It had  
been just a little too quiet for just a little too long.  
"Reilly to Afrifa. Sir, we've got an Invid patrol coming up at  
three o'clock," Tracey Reilly's voice called over the radio. "Would you  
like I should move to engage?"  
We were approaching the edge of the forest. The foliage was growing  
more and more sparse. It wouldn't be very hard for them to spot us from the  
air.  
"Sir? Do I engage the Invid or not?" she asked again impatiently.  
I had little time to consider my decision. I ordered an attack, but  
with the stipulation that it be broken off at the first sign of trouble.  
Tracey let out a howl of delight. It was the kind of action she  
always lived for. There were three of them against the one of her, but I  
felt no need to worry.  
The Alpha went to battloid, deftly avoiding a volley of energy discs  
and firing off two high-explosive missiles directly into the eye of one  
lobster, blowing it apart. The battloid motioned to the others with a  
finger. _Bring it on, aliens,_ it seemed to say. One shot grazed the leg  
of the Alpha. Tracey shouted obscenities that would embarrass a sailor, not  
caring that the radio was still on and I could hear every word. With the  
ferocity of an animal, the Alpha pounced on one of the scouts, punching and  
clawing at it, doing little real damage but venting a lot of anger. Then it  
threw the scout at the other, sending both of them hurtling toward the  
ground at great velocity. But Tracey wasn't finished with them yet.  
Imaging the Alpha through to fighter mode, she gave chase. Six missiles  
found their mark, and both Invid exploded in a white-hot fireball,  
showering debris onto the countryside below.  
Breathing heavily from excitement, Tracey reported, "I got 'em, sir.  
Not too shabby for an amateur, eh? Eat your heart out, Rick Hunter!"  
_Arrogant child._ I tried to remember that I was that young, too,  
once. But that was oh so long ago. Was I ever quite as bad as that?  
"Don't get so cocky, Reilly. That could just as easily have been  
you, you know," I reminded her.  
Tracey suddenly got very quiet. I smiled roguishly, and my wife  
poked me with her elbow. But she was laughing aloud herself.  
"That was cruel what you said to that poor little girl," she  
scolded, still laughing.  
I turned off the radio and removed the headset. "She's too cocky.  
She needs somebody to scare a little humility into her before she gets  
herself killed up there."  
But I wasn't really worried. Tracey may have been a little green,  
but she was a natural at flying and fighting in the Alpha.  
"Reminds me a lot of how you were at that age, Agyei," remarked my  
wife, Nyankomago.  
I smiled. "But back then there weren't Invid hiding behind every  
rock."  
"Well, we had wild animals..."  
I turned the radio back on and asked Tracey, "How's the leg? I  
thought I saw it take a hit up there."  
"It was just a scratch, really. Nothing major," Tracey replied.  
"No, wait, I think it's leaking something."  
"What's it leaking?" I asked with a sense of urgency.  
"I-I don't know, sir. I'm no mechanic. It's, uh, something green.  
Is that anything?"  
I didn't know, either. I knew almost as little about mecha  
mechanics as she did, and I'd never even _flown_ an Alpha before. I didn't  
know what was in those things. As far as I knew it could have been  
something combustible.  
"There's a cave up ahead," I told her. "Let's get inside where  
we'll be out of view in case of more Invid. We can have Yasuharu check it  
out when we get there."  
Sounding concerned, Tracey observed, "Then you don't know what it  
is, either, do you?"  
I answered truthfully, "No, I don't."  
  
The cave was very deep and very dark. We were able to hide all our  
vehicles inside easily. Portable generators powered lamps and tools as  
Takeshi Yasuharu, our resident mecha mechanic, repaired the damaged Alpha.  
"This green substance is not from the Alpha," he quickly concluded.  
"In fact, I don't think I've ever seen this before. I don't know what it  
is."  
I asked him, "Could it be from the Invid scouts?"  
"It is possible. But why have I never seen any before?"  
"Tracey never pounced on an Invid scout like that before," I  
answered. "She must have gotten some on the Alpha then."  
Yasuharu wiped his hands on a cloth and put his tool kit back into  
his truck.  
Tracey wondered, "Could it be blood? Could there be something  
actually _alive_ inside those lobsters?"  
Yasuharu shrugged. "I'm just the mechanic. I don't do aliens.  
That stuff is hard to clean up, but it didn't hurt the Alpha. That's all  
I'm concerned about."  
Raymond Pratt and Larry Forrester ran to us, shouting about having  
heard voices when they were exploring deeper in the cave.  
"It was probably just your echoes, guys," suggested Henry Barlowe.  
Larry snapped at him, "No, man. I'm telling you, the voices were  
speaking _Zentraedi!_"  
  
Soon I began to hear the voices too. They were indeed speaking  
T'sentrati and they were getting closer. I told everyone to get their  
weapons and take defensive positions, just in case these T'sentrati were  
hostile. There were seven of them, all micronised, of course, and all  
heavily armed.  
They came into the light of the lamps, weapons at the ready. There  
were five men and two women among them. They all wore miniature versions of  
T'sentrati battle armour and carried miniature T'sentrati rifles. They  
shouted at us in their language. I had no idea what they were saying. But  
they didn't attack, that was what was so strange about their behaviour.  
I asked Nyankomago if she could communicate with them. She had  
worked closely with T'sentrati Malcontents during the Uprisings and had  
learned to speak their language with near-perfect fluency.  
"I think so," she answered. "They're asking who we are and what we  
want here. What do you want me to tell them?"  
"I don't care what you tell them. Just don't get them angry. I  
don't want these people's blood on my hands."  
Nyankomago took a deep breath and said something in T'sentrati that  
seemed to amuse them. They laughed and lowered their weapons, motioning for  
us to follow them.  
I wondered what she had said to put them in such a good mood all of  
a sudden.  
Somewhat embarrassed, she replied, "I told them who we are and why  
we came here. And then I asked them to take us to their leader."  
  
  
  
©1996/1998 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Originally published in the  
Backstabber Preservation Society publication "Sten Yar" Volume 1, Issue 1,  
June/July 1996. Slightly altered for electronic use. Robotech and all the  
borrowed elements thereof are trademarks of Harmony Gold, used without  
permission. I'm not trying to infringe on anyone's copyrights or  
trademarks, or profit from anyone else's ideas. 


	2. Underground

Robotech Freedom Fighters  
by Naia Zifu  
  
Chapter Two: Underground  
  
The T'sentrati led us farther and deeper into the cave. The only  
illumination was that from our lanterns. Then, about five kilometres in, I  
began to see lights ahead. It couldn't have been daylight-- the path we had  
been following was descending steadily the entire time. Ultimately, the  
cavern opened up into an immense chamber with a winding path descending into  
what seemed to be... a city? I blinked a few times to be sure my eyes  
weren't playing tricks. It was really there-- a city inside the cave,  
kilometres below the surface, bustling with activity.  
Nyankomago uttered the words I'd just been thinking, "It looks just  
like Macross."  
And actually, it did. From the layout of the streets to the names  
on the buildings, that underground city was exactly like Macross.  
The T'sentrati led us down the path and into the city. We passed by  
the building where Nyankomago and I used to live-- or at least its exact  
duplicate. As we approached the White Dragon restaurant, I almost expected  
Minmei to come out in her Mandarin dress and trademark buns with braids to  
welcome us, but instead there were two armoured T'sentrati outside standing  
guard. We were searched and our weapons confiscated before we were allowed  
to enter. That building may have resembled the White Dragon outside, but  
the inside was the bridge of the SDF-1. Sitting in the captain's chair was  
an attractive, violet-haired T'sentrati female wearing a miniature officer's  
uniform. Nyankomago showed a sudden shock of recognition.  
"T'sen Rau!" she exclaimed, giving a respectful T'sentrati salute.  
"Maggie, I'd heard you were dead..."  
The T'sentrati's glacial expression softened. She ordered the  
guards away. Then she spoke to my wife in heavily-accented English.  
"That's what I _wanted_ everyone to think," she explained. "If I  
didn't know better, Nyankomago, I'd think you were one of us. You don't  
seem to have aged at all."  
Nyankomago answered quickly, "Oh, I've just been taking good care of  
myself. _You_ built this city, Magdomilla?"  
Magdomilla laughed. "_We_ built Paranka, Nyankomago. It is meant  
as an oasis of peace for humans and T'sentrati alike, a place of refuge from  
the wars and destruction taking place on the surface world."  
"Paranka? Like the Malcontent group?"  
"Paranka, like the creatures of T'sentrati legend," she explained.  
"They were said to have burrowed under the ground, so we thought it the  
proper name for a city constructed underground."  
Nyankomago wondered, "Why did you make your city look like Macross?"  
"You don't like it?" Magdomilla appeared deeply hurt.  
"I, um, well... it feels strange. Outside it feels like Macross,  
but inside..." She gestured around at the room.  
"Most of Paranka is exactly like Macross," Magdomilla said with an  
embarrassed laugh. "I just like to sit in this chair sometimes. I like the  
feeling of power it gives me."  
Tracey interrupted, "Excuse me, but are we prisoners here or what?"  
"No, you're free to go wherever you like and leave whenever you  
like. You are guests in Paranka."  
Nyankomago asked me whether we would be staying for a while. At  
first I was strongly against the idea, but she argued that we were all tired  
and there wasn't another town for hundreds of kilometres in any direction.  
Finally I agreed that we would stay for a few days, just long enough to rest  
and take on supplies.  
"Do you have room for us to stay for a few days?" Nyankomago asked.  
"Of course," she answered. "Stay as long as you like."  
Then she called for human guides to show us where we would be  
staying. It was our building-- inside and out. It was our old apartment,  
exactly as I remembered it, less our personal effects. For all intents and  
purposes, we were home. The only reminders that we weren't in Macross were  
that artificial lights and cavern walls had replaced the EVE sun and sky,  
and that in Paranka, humans were the minority group. Nyankomago settled  
easily into the familiar environment. I had only been staring out the  
window for a minute, and when I turned around she had her boots off and was  
stretched out comfortably on the sofa.  
"It's just like our old place," she said.  
"Yes, I know. Strange, isn't it?"  
She got up and walked slowly to me, opening her shirt all the way.  
"Oh, I don't know about that. I think it's kind of nice. It reminds me of  
all the great times we had together in Macross, remember?"  
I held her body close to mine. Her eyes shone with anticipation. I  
kissed her lips, her neck, her chest... A pleasured growl rose from her  
throat. I drank in her essence. I knew all her thoughts. I felt all her  
joys and sorrows. It had been so long since I'd had her that I had  
forgotten how delicious she was. Time and space melted away, and we were  
oblivious to our surroundings.  
Neither of us noticed the door had opened until we heard Kimiyo's  
screams.  
Nyankomago quickly buttoned her shirt as I tried to calm Kimiyo. I  
told her that she had just happened in on Nyankomago and me as we were  
making out, and that nothing unusual had occurred. Her heart rate returned  
to normal almost immediately. She stopped screaming. But Yasuharu, having  
heard his wife's screams, came running to her aid.  
"What's wrong, Kimiyo?" he asked excitedly. "Is it the baby? Is it  
time?"  
Kimiyo looked at me, then replied, "No, I'm fine. Baby's not ready  
yet. I just came in at the wrong time, that's all. Saw too much. Nothing  
strange happened. I'll come back later."  
Yasuharu and Kimiyo left, and I closed and locked the door.  
Nyankomago gave a sigh of relief. "That was close."  
"Too close," I agreed. "I suppose we'll have to be more careful  
from now on."  
But even as I said that I saw she was giving me that look again.  
"At least can we go to the bedroom this time?" I asked.  
Apparently in no mood to wait that long, she ripped open my shirt  
and had me right then and there.  
  
  
  
©1996/1998 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Originally published in the  
Backstabber Preservation Society publication "Sten Yar" Volume 1, Issue 2,  
Aug/Sept 1996. Slightly altered for electronic use. Robotech and all the  
borrowed elements thereof are trademarks of Harmony Gold, used without  
permission. I'm not trying to infringe on anyone's copyrights or  
trademarks, or profit from anyone else's ideas. 


	3. Happy Holiday

Robotech Freedom Fighters  
by Naia Zifu  
  
Chapter Three: Happy Holiday  
  
Our "few days" in Paranka passed quickly into a month. I knew we  
had to leave soon. We had a mission to get back to. But it had been so  
long since any of us had had fun that I didn't want to let it end.  
"I could really get used to this life," I heard Henry say. "All my  
life's been just war after war, y'know? I envy the kids born here, never  
having known anything but peace."  
Raymond was quick to agree. "Yeah, I know. I like it here, too.  
And there are _real_ T'sentrati here! I always thought there were none of  
those left on Earth. Who'd have guessed they were all down here all that  
time?"  
Henry added, "And I always heard about how barbaric they were?  
Well, you know, since I've been here I've made more T'sentrati friends than  
I ever had human friends."  
"Yeah, concurred Raymond. "Hey! I'm going to a concert tonight  
with Brin and Torri. If you want, I'll see if there are tickets left and  
you can invite Xan. I hear she's really interested in you."  
"You think so? Well, I can ask. Who's playing?"  
"I don't know if you've heard them... They're called 'Hot Soy.'  
They're T'sentrati. You heard the song, 'Tan Yar?' "  
"Are you kidding?" Henry cried. "I love that song! Gee, I hope you  
can get tickets... You really think Xan likes me? She's pretty hot  
herself, you know..."  
Tracey had been spending a lot of time with a young T'sentrati male  
and it was said the relationship had gotten serious. I'd seen them together  
in the park, holding hands and kissing the way young lovers do.  
Two weeks after our arrival in Paranka, Yasuharu and Kimiyo had  
their first child, a healthy daughter they named Taka. What's more, they'd  
met a young interracial couple who had also just delivered their first child  
and they'd become fast friends.  
Even Larry seemed to be enjoying his stay, which was more than a  
little surprising, given his opinions. I'd even seen him associating with  
T'sentrati youth on several occasions. Had he finally been able to put his  
prejudices behind him?  
"I've never seen everyone so happy," I told my wife.  
"Can you blame them? This is the kind of peace we've been fighting  
to bring about up there." Nyankomago paused, then gave a disconsolate sigh.  
She admitted quietly, "I could be very happy here, Agyei."  
"I know. So could I. That's the problem."  
"We have to leave," she said firmly. "Maybe we can come back later,  
after the Invid are all gone, but for now..."  
"I'll tell everyone the news," I offered.  
Nyankomago put her arms around me and rested her head on my chest.  
"Tomorrow, Agyei. I want one last night in this apartment with  
you."  
  
The next morning I found Tracey in an ice cream parlour with her  
T'sentrati boyfriend. She smiled when she saw me and waved me over.  
"This is the man I've been telling you about," she told her  
boyfriend. "He's the one who's going to liberate the surface world and  
bring lasting peace everywhere."  
"I'm Agyei Afrifa," I said, offering him my hand. "Well, I don't  
know about bringing lasting peace everywhere, but yes, we _are_ trying to  
free the world from Invid control."  
"Kaeisuan Triibola," he replied, shaking my hand vigorously. "Nice  
to meet you, sir. Please, sit down. Care for anything? Ice cream? Root  
beer float?"  
"No thank you," I answered. "I just came to talk to Tracey."  
Tracey excused herself and I took her to an empty booth in the back  
for privacy.  
She gushed, "Well, what do you think of him? He's very nice, don't  
you think? And _so_ good-looking... His hair and skin are _naturally_  
blue, you know. And he's got such a sweet voice..."  
"Tracey," I said once, twice, three times before I finally got her  
attention. "Tracey, we're leaving."  
"Today?" she asked urgently.  
I nodded. "We decided it was best. We still have a world to  
liberate, remember?"  
"I understand. I'll go tell Kaeisuan, then pack up. Did you tell  
the others yet?"  
"No, not yet. I was just about to. Tracey, are you going to be  
okay?"  
"I guess so. I'll miss him, though. Kaeisuan was the first guy I  
ever really cared about... who ever cared about me... And I told him I'd go  
out with him tonight and celebrate."  
"Celebrate?"  
She explained, "Today is an important holiday for the T'sentrati.  
It's Khyron's birthday-- I mean, _cloneday._ There's going to be a big  
party tonight. Everybody in town will be there. Kaeisuan was going to  
introduce me to his parents."  
I had never heard of any such holiday. But I told Tracey we could  
stay one more day for the celebration, then we'd have to go first thing next  
morning. She thanked me, but I knew she was still disappointed. Like most  
of us, she had grown to love Paranka and had made friends there. Tracey  
didn't want to leave at all.  
  
"Yes, it's a real holiday," replied Nyankomago. "You've never heard  
of it? They started a couple of years after Khyron's death in honour of his  
memory. Every year on November 2nd they have a big party for him. And let  
me tell you, nobody throws a party like Magdomilla Rau. We've _got_ to  
stay for this, Agyei!"  
"How do they know he was cloned on November 2nd?"  
"Well, the calendars don't convert very well, but as near as they  
can determine, it's close," she explained. "They needed a day to celebrate  
and this is the day they chose."  
"Why Khyron?" I asked.  
"Khyron may have been a villain to us micronians, but to the  
T'sentrati he was a great hero. This is unquestionably the most important  
day of the year for them."  
  
The party was all Nyankomago had said it would be, and more. It  
was similar in scope to New Orleans' Mardi Gras, but somehow orderly, in  
keeping with the T'sentrati way.  
"Mr. Afrifa!" Kaeisuan's voice called from the crowd. Tracey was  
with him, as were two T'sentrati in officers' uniforms. "I told my parents  
how you were going to save the world and they insisted on meeting you.  
Agyei Afrifa, I want you to meet my father Quelt'san Triibola and my mother  
Naia Zifu. Dad, Mom, meet Agyei Afrifa, the man Tracey and I told you  
about."  
I shook hands with his parents and introduced them to my wife, who  
struck up a conversation with them in T'sentrati. Quelt'san tried to ask me  
a question in their language, but I couldn't understand a word he was  
saying.  
He frowned and asked in broken English, "You don't talk T'sentrati?"  
"No, but I've been meaning to learn for years..." I lied.  
Nyankomago stifled a laugh but said nothing.  
"I asked if you have been to Kravshera Day parties before."  
"No, this is my first time," I replied, thinking it best not to  
mention I'd never even _heard_ of it before.  
Kaeisuan proudly announced, "My parents invented the Kravshera Day  
celebration, you know."  
"Really?" asked Nyankomago, sounding more impressed than  
incredulous.  
"Yes," answered Quelt'san. "I had the pleasure to serve under  
Khyron for several years. Like many Botorus, I was angry at his death, and  
wanted to avenge him. But soon I met Naia. She taught me there were ways  
to honour Khyron's memory without becoming one myself."  
Naia teased, "You make it sound like such a grand, selfless act...  
Of course you know I only keep you around as my personal _sex slave._"  
Quelt'san replied with a laugh, "Then I would say I'm more than  
earning my keep, wouldn't you?"  
"_Too much information!_" cried Kaeisuan, making a face. His  
parents laughed diabolically.  
"I'm really enjoying the party, Kaeisuan. Thank you for inviting  
me," Tracey said, trying to change the subject.  
"Who _else_ would I invite?" he replied, slipping his arm around  
her waist.  
Naia frowned at that and seemed about to comment, but Quelt'san  
muttered something to her in T'sentrati that seemed to assuage her.  
Kaeisuan went on, "You know, we never had _anything_ like this back  
in Monument. I was probably the only fully-T'sentrati kid in town. I  
couldn't even get the day off from school. Here they make a big production  
out of it. Even the _humans_ come..."  
"Yes, Magdomilla has really outdone herself this time," my wife  
observed. "This is the best Kravshera Day celebration I've ever attended."  
"Oh? How do you know Magdomilla?" Naia wondered.  
"I worked with T'sentrati rebels a lot during the Uprisings. I  
helped feed and supply Malcontents and relay messages between the different  
factions."  
Naia smiled and embraced a startled Nyankomago.  
"Sister!" she exclaimed, a term of affection used between female  
T'sentrati, particularly those of the same clone queue. "_At last,_ a  
micronian I can actually relate to!"  
  
  
  
©1996/1998 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Originally published in the  
Backstabber Preservation Society publication "Sten Yar" Volume 1, Issue 3,  
Oct/Nov 1996. Slightly altered for electronic use. Robotech and all the  
borrowed elements thereof are trademarks of Harmony Gold, used without  
permission. I'm not trying to infringe on anyone's copyrights or  
trademarks, or profit from anyone else's ideas. 


	4. Spicy Food and Regults

Robotech Freedom Fighters  
by Naia Zifu  
  
Chapter Four: Spicy Food and Regults  
  
"You didn't say you were _sympathisers_," Quelt'san said with a warm  
smile.  
I told him, "Yes, well, we were living in the South American jungles  
at the time, and Nyankomago had always harboured sympathy for the T'sentrati,  
so it was only natural..."  
"How do you know Maggie, Naia?" asked Nyankomago.  
"Magdomilla was my first officer on the Isa Tanari," Naia replied.  
"And my dearest friend and confidante. But I lost touch with her after we  
came to Earth until two years ago when she contacted me and suggested we  
come here."  
Quelt'san explained, "We knw the Invid were coming, and we had to do  
what was best for our son, so of course we accepted."  
"And don't misunderstand, I really _do_ like living here, but after  
a while you kind of start to miss the sunlight and fresh air," Kaeisuan said.  
Tracey remarked, "Well, it's not too pretty up there right now,  
Kaeisuan. Trust me, I know. Right now I'd much rather have peace but no  
sunshine, than sunshine and get blown to bits."  
Nyankomago promised, "We'll make it safe again on the surface soon  
enough. Then you'll all be free to go wherever you like."  
"But there are so few of you..." Quelt'san observed.  
The T'sentrati war strategy had always been to obtain victory  
through sheer numbers. Our group was very small, but we knew there were  
others like us out there-- we'd even met some of them-- who had the same  
goal we did. The idea was that we'd join forces at the Reflex Point,  
and with the combined resources of all our mecha and manpower we hoped to  
defeat the Invid and free the world of their control... Thinking about it  
just then I suddenly realised I liked the T'sentrati strategy better.  
"Do you need any help?" he offered. "We are T'sentrati. Battling  
Invid is what we were made for."  
I considered the offer carefully. We _could_ use the assistance,  
particularly at Reflex Point. But to accept would be to invalidate  
everything Paranka stood for. I couldn't do that. I respectfully declined  
the offer.  
"You are fools," Naia opined, "but you are courageous fools."  
She embraced my wife again, telling her, "May all your shots strike  
true, my sister."  
"May you win all of your battles," replied Nyankomago.  
Tracey whispered to Kaeisuan, "What did all that mean?"  
He replied with a smile, "It means Mrs. Afrifa is now T'sentrati."  
"Huh?"  
"Not genetically, of course. But it means my mother no longer  
thinks of her as a micronian."  
"Oh," Tracey said, still sounding confused.  
  
The party was still far from over when Nyankomago and I returned to  
our apartment. We had advised the others of our group to do the same, as we  
had only hours left before we had to leave.  
"Did we have to leave the party so early?" she complained. "Just  
when people were starting to get drunk enough to be fun..."  
"Yes. You know that, Nyankomago. It's nearly two in the morning  
and we're leaving at five-thirty."  
"We didn't even stop for a bite," she reminded me, chuckling at her  
own joke.  
That was true. We'd been so busy enjoying the celebration that we  
had ignored our own hunger. And there wasn't another town for hundreds of  
kilometres in any direction. I agreed that going out for a bite was indeed  
in our best interests. Suddenly excited, Nyankomago rushed to get something  
from her bag and went into the other room, calling that she'd be back in a  
moment.  
When she returned she was dressed all in black leather, with a long,  
swirling black cape. Her face was made up dramatically and her eyes were  
ablaze, with the look of a predator. I was appalled and delighted all at  
once. She looked so gaudy and unnatural, yet somehow also appealing. I'd  
never seen her that way before.  
"Do you like it? I picked it up in town yesterday for just such an  
occasion."  
I searched for words but found none. She went to the window and  
struck a provocative pose beside it, gazing down to the city.  
"Look at all that activity," she mused wistfully. "I'm sure there's  
plenty of crime going on down there as we speak. Oh, Agyei, let's go find  
some!"  
And then she was gone. I pursued her, hoping to prevent her getting  
into any trouble. When I found her she was in a dimly-lit alley where two  
humans were breaking into a jewellery store. She acknowledged me with a nod,  
then without warning leapt out, startling the humans. She was on one of  
them before he could even cry out. I caught mine as he tried to run. They  
were young, possibly early-twenties, and Hispanic. _Perfect. Spicy  
food..._ His brief life flashed through my mind. He was nothing but a  
typical street thug. I grew weary of those and longed for someone more  
interesting.  
"Ah, jalapeno," joked Nyankomago. "Haven't had any of that in a  
while."  
Wiping my mouth with my hand, I asked, "So, what now?"  
"Let's see..."  
Two muggings and a gang rape later, we returned to our apartment.  
My wife was in high spirits. It was the most we'd fed in months and the  
first live meal we'd had in days.  
"That was the best time I've had in ever so long," Nyankomago  
announced.  
"I know. I enjoyed it, too."  
She wondered, "How can I sleep after all that?"  
Knowing I shouldn't, but feeling strangely compelled, I told her,  
"Well, we don't actually _have_ to go to sleep if you don't want to..."  
  
"Are you sure you have enough supplies?" asked Magdomilla Rau.  
Looking around, I replied, "I think so. I don't see that we've room  
for anything more."  
"Thank you for your generosity."  
"No need to thank me, Nyankomago. Just consider it compensation for  
all you've done for me."  
Yasuharu rolled out from under an ATV, dirty but smiling.  
"Last-minute checkups complete," he told me. "All systems are go.  
We can leave whenever you're ready, sir."  
"Thank you, Yasuharu. Take a moment to clean up and visit with your  
friends," I said. "It could be a while before we're back this way again."  
Kaeisuan and his parents arrived shortly. Tracey practically  
tackled her boyfriend as he entered. She'd been worried he was never  
coming. Tired of hearing her complain, we were _all_ glad when Kaeisuan  
finally arrived...  
I'd noticed the night before that Naia didn't look very T'sentrati,  
but out of uniform she was nearly indistinguishable from a human. Actually,  
at her diminutive height, and with the Pizzicato Five t-shirt, faded jeans,  
and excessive costume jewellery she wore, she resembled nothing so much as a  
teen-ager. Quelt'san, every bit as tall as myself, was dressed more  
conservatively in a heather-grey sweater and black slacks.  
"Not much mecha," he observed.  
I conceded, "No, there isn't. Just a red Alpha and three scavenged  
Cyclones, that's all we've managed to find so far."  
"You aren't going to make it like that," Naia stated matter-of-  
factly.  
Kaeisuan suggested, "Why don't we give them some Regults? We aren't  
really using them, but I'm sure they could, and we've got plenty here."  
"Aren't we a little small for those?" Tracey argued.  
"Well, most are retrofitted for use by micronised pilots," he  
explained, "so you'd be able to work them fine. What d'you think, T'sen  
Rau? Couldn't we spare just a couple?"  
Magdomilla considered the idea. Humans piloting T'sentrati mecha?  
It was practically unheard of. But it could be our only hope against the  
Invid. So finally she consented and spoke to some armoured T'sentrati  
standing nearby. They seemed puzzled by the request but did as they were  
ordered. Shortly two of the ostriches were brought out. I was amazed to  
see that they had been fitted with human-sized pilot seats and tiny controls.  
Yasuharu wondered aloud how they worked. He was taken inside of one and  
shown firsthand. Raymond volunteered to pilot the other of them.  
I checked my watch. It was twenty-five past five. I told everyone  
that we were about to go.  
Kaeisuan helped Tracey into her Alpha. They kissed good-bye several  
times before Tracey could bring herself to close the canopy. Even then they  
still waved to one another and threw kisses.  
"Kaeisuan," Quelt'san called, "she can't come back if you don't let  
her leave."  
"Her not coming back is what worries me," muttered Kaeisuan, turning  
to wave one last time.  
  
  
  
  
©1996/1998 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Originally published in the  
Backstabber Preservation Society publication "Sten Yar" Volume 1, Issue 4,  
Dec 1996/Jan 1997. Slightly altered for electronic use. Robotech and all the  
borrowed elements thereof are trademarks of Harmony Gold, used without  
permission. I'm not trying to infringe on anyone's copyrights or  
trademarks, or profit from anyone else's ideas. 


	5. Vacation's Over

Robotech Freedom Fighters  
by Naia Zifu  
  
Chapter Five: Vacation's Over  
  
It was still dark as our convoy set out from Paranka, but we  
knew we still had to be on the lookout for Invid patrols, particularly  
since we'd just taken on the two Regults. They weren't at all quiet as  
they bounded along gracelessly, Yasuharu and Raymond still new to the  
controls. I'd heard that Invid were particularly sensitive to Proto-  
culture emanations from T'sentrati mecha. If we hadn't so needed the  
firepower I'd as soon have not accepted the gift of the ostriches.  
"Is something troubling you, Agyei?" asked my wife, Nyankomago.  
"You seem distant."  
"I'm fine, really," I assured her. "I was just thinking about  
what Quelt'san and Naia said, how we have no chance against the Invid.  
I couldn't help wondering if it isn't wrong to be putting these young  
lives at risk for a mission already doomed to failure."  
"If you were mortal, would you have any problem risking your  
life for the freedom of your planet?" she asked.  
"No, of course not!"  
"Well, these people made the same decision," she said. "We  
didn't force them to come along. They're all mortal, but they're  
willing to risk their lives for freedom, and all you can do is sit  
there and feel sorry for yourself?"  
"And what about Taka? Who asked her if she wanted to come?  
Nyankomago, this is no place for a two-week-old infant."  
"No place for a pregnant woman about to burst, either, but you  
had little problem with it then."  
I knew I was beaten. Time to climb off the self-pity wagon and  
get back to the real world.  
"I know what'll cheer you up; music!" Nyankomago exclaimed,  
inserting a CD into the player and turning the volume up far too loud.  
I suppressed a moan. It was heavy metal music-- in T'sentrati,  
no less!  
"What _is_ this?" I asked, shouting to be heard over the  
screech of guitars and the strange sound of the warriors' language set  
to music.  
"It's 'Template #143' by Hot Soy," she replied. "Do you like  
it?"  
"Lovely," I muttered, the word dripping with sarcasm.  
The radio crackled to life, and Nyankomago turned down the  
volume on the CD.  
"Pratt here," Raymond's voice said as calmly as if it were a  
social call, "got a bunch of lobsters coming in at high noon and they  
aren't the boiled variety, sir. What say we have ourselves an early  
breakfast?"  
"Do you think you can actually fight in that ostrich, Pratt?"  
I wondered.  
"Watch me!"  
I gave my okay, but only because there were so many Invid and  
only one Alpha.  
The Regults bounded forward as the Alpha configured to jet and  
shot out ahead of them, rockets blazing, two of them finding their  
mark.  
The Regults were almost too clumsy as the beginning pilots  
struggled to remember all the controls. An energy disk glanced off the  
top of Yasuharu's Regult. Particle beams severed the legs and one claw  
of the lobster before a flying leap from Raymond's ostrich knocked it  
out of the sky. His lasers flashed at an oncoming Shock Trooper,  
barely even denting its armour. Without warning, it was split by a  
pair of missiles that caught it in the back. The shock of the  
explosion knocked over Raymond's mecha. Yasuharu laid cover with auto-  
cannon fire as Tracey helped Raymond's ostrich to its feet.  
"Why couldn't they have made these things with _arms?_" Raymond  
shouted in frustration.  
Barely managing to get the mecha to its feet, Raymond loosed a  
long burst of autocannon fire at a Pincer that was bearing down on the  
Alpha. A few lucky bullets caught it in the eye and it drifted into  
the path of a volley of energy discs, blowing apart like a firecracker.  
Yasuharu had his Regult jumping deftly between shots, trying to confuse  
the lobsters into hitting one another. He didn't see the one overhead  
trying to get a bead on him. Tracey did. She holed it with gunfire  
and watched it spiral to the ground, out of control. As if to deny it  
had been defeated, the Invid managed to stand again, only momentarily,  
before another shot from Tracey finished it off.  
The threat momentarily past, Raymond asked over the radio,  
"Anybody hurt?"  
"Don't think so," Tracey replied.  
"Only a scratch," answered Yasuharu.  
I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd been worried the ostriches  
might not last their first battle.  
"Good job," Nyankomago said into the radio.  
Raymond replied, "Any time, ma'am. I had a lot of fun out  
there."  
"You're not supposed to be having fun, Pratt," I scolded.  
"This is a war, not a picnic!"  
Nyankomago rolled her eyes. "Can't you just leave those poor  
kids alone? You can see they seem to know what they're doing."  
I sighed and said into the radio, "Good work, everyone. But  
please, try to be careful out there. You're only mortal, you know, and  
you only live once."  
Looking satisfied, my wife turned the music up again and began  
to sing along.  
"What do the lyrics mean, anyway?" I wondered.  
"Well, this song is called 'Quenno.' It's about the task of  
collecting the dead after a battle so they can be recycled," she  
explained. "Do you want me to recite the translation?"  
"Um, no thank you," I replied, sorry I'd asked.  
"You know you really should learn the T'sentrati language,  
Agyei. It could come in handy, like if we returned to Paranka, or if  
we met some T'sentrati up here, even. I know there are bound to be  
scattered groups left up here on the surface."  
"You speak the language. You can communicate with them."  
"And if I'm not around?"  
"Most T'sentrati speak at least a little English. We'll work  
something out."  
Sounding quite annoyed, she asked, "What have you got against  
learning a little about another culture, Agyei? I _know_ you're not a  
bigot, are you?"  
"Of course not!"  
"Then why don't you want to learn about the T'sentrati?" she  
asked. "Why won't you even try to learn their language? The  
T'sentrati are a very beautiful people!"  
"Okay, I'll try to learn some T'sentrati," I agreed, "and I'll  
learn about their culture, too. Will that make you happy?"  
"We'll see how you do first," she said. "And don't slack out  
on me, because I can tell whether you're really trying or not!"  
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, not at all mockingly.  
"Okay, then, let's start at the beginning. . ."  
  
  
  
  
©1997/2001 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Originally published in the  
Backstabber Preservation Society publication "Sten Yar" Volume 2, Issue  
5, Feb/Mar 1997. Slightly altered for electronic use. Robotech  
and all borrowed elements thereof are trademarks of Harmony Gold, used  
without permission. I'm not trying to infringe on anyone's copyrights  
or trademarks, or profit from anyone else's ideas. 


	6. Welcome to Blue River

Robotech Freedom Fighters  
by Naia Zifu  
  
Chapter Six: Welcome to Blue River  
  
My wife was in an unusually good mood even she was at a loss to  
explain. Sitting dangerously close to the campfire, she happily  
strummed her acoustic guitar and sang Yellow Dancer songs, encouraging  
others to join in if they knew the words.  
"Do you believe in the causes you're fighting for?" she sang,  
somehow making the song sound cheerful and optimistic. "You used to  
believe yesterday. Now what can you say, now that you're so far from  
home? You're out there on your own. . ."  
"Lonely soldier boy," Raymond and Tracey chimed in, trying not  
to be too off-key.  
I sneaked away when no-one was looking, wishing to be alone  
with nature for a while.  
The moon was full and bright in the sky, making the fresh snow  
glisten like diamonds. I threw myself onto it and made an angel, then  
wondered why. I listened to the snow crunch beneath my boots as I  
walked, and tried to get a persistent Hot Soy song out of my head.  
Thanks to Nyankomago's T'sentrati lessons I was beginning to  
understand some of the lyrics, and I wasn't liking them. Every one of  
their songs was about death and violence. Why were there no T'sentrati  
love songs?  
I rested in the cold, wet snow again, gazing up at the stars  
and daydreaming.  
I'd heard the stars were getting farther apart as the universe  
expanded, and eventually the constellations we know would cease to  
exist. I wondered idly if that would happen in my lifetime, then if  
I'd even _want_ to live that long. . .  
"Whatever Nyankomago's on today," I said aloud, heaving a  
sigh, "I think I could do with some about now."  
So I got up and started back for the camp, humming that  
infernal Hot Soy song and wishing it would go away. Nyankomago smiled  
at me as I approached, and continued leading everyone in song.  
I sat close to my wife, nervous about being so close to the  
fire, but trying not to think about it. Her good mood was contagious;  
I couldn't help singing along.  
Invid? What were Invid? That night we knew of no such word.  
Dawn crept up on us quietly, unnoticed until the sky was ablaze  
with the pinks and purples of morning and the sun was a red ball on the  
horizon. We hadn't slept at all.  
Invid? What were Invid? They thought to remind us then, the  
morning sun shining on their armour as they patrolled the peaks and  
valley.  
Sleepy warriors were shocked awake as they scrambled to their  
mecha, ready to risk their lives again for the sake of their planet.  
Missiles left trails of smoke as they sought out their targets,  
dropping bits of Invid onto the pristine landscape. Larry, still  
unused to fighting in Cyclone armour, took a swat with a claw before  
Yasuharu blew the lobster's arm off and holed its armour repeatedly  
with autocannon fire. Tracey was forced into battloid mode after her  
Alpha's wing was damaged, but even so caught another in the belly as it  
dove in for its attack. Raymond took some pretty bad gashes from one  
agile, persistent Pincer before finally managing to hole it with plasma  
cannons. Henry went for a ride on Lobster Airlines, his Cyclone  
leaping onto the back of a Pincer so a nearby Shock Trooper would fire  
upon it, jumping clear before it exploded, then taking care of the  
Shock Trooper with a couple of well-placed missiles.  
"They're getting better," Tracey observed once she was safely  
back on the ground again, "you've got to give them that much."  
"Yeah," Raymond agreed, "unfortunately for us."  
Yasuharu frowned as he surveyed the damage to the mecha,  
muttering harsh-sounding words in Japanese. Kimiyo handed little Taka  
off to Nyankomago and was at her husband's side in an instant, asking  
if there were anything she could do to help. It was easy to forget  
she'd been quite the grease monkey herself before her pregnancy had  
forced her to take some time off.  
Larry spoke up, "Well, we can't stay here how, guys. Some-  
body's bound to miss those lobsters and send more to see where they got  
to, and I don't wanna be here when they arrive!"  
"That goes double for me," Henry said. "So where are we headed  
now?"  
I was already poring over a map of the area, looking for any  
signs of civilisation.  
About a day's travel away, the map showed what seemed to be a  
small city. We could probably stop there for a couple of days to give  
Yasuharu and Kimiyo a chance to repair the damaged mecha, providing the  
Invid hadn't gotten there first.  
  
"Welcome to Blue River," read a sign posted at the edge of the  
city, which, I was astonished to find, was intact and populated.  
We concealed our mecha in a convenient stand of evergreens on  
the outskirts of town before we entered in our conventionally-powered  
ATVs.  
Fatigued by the long drive and suffering from extreme sleep  
deprivation, we all agreed it would be best to check into a motel right  
away and get some rest. Of course, that was perfectly fine with  
Nyankomago and me; being what we are, we naturally prefer to sleep  
during the day. But come nighttime, we were all ready to get out there  
and explore the city.  
  
We had followed the sounds of music into a night-club called  
"Graveyard Shift" at the centre of town. There was something about  
that place. . .as I entered the building I felt a strange sensation, as  
if the air inside were electrically charged. On stage was a pretty  
good punk-rock band, the lead vocallist of which was a stunning  
T'sentrati woman with unruly green hair, who wore a torn, dingy David  
Bowie t-shirt and shredded jeans.  
She was the only T'sentrati I'd seen in Blue River, and sang in  
English for the benefit of the entirely human audience. Her voice was  
clear and quiet, and against the steady pulsing beat of the music took  
on a sort of hypnotic quality.  
"Isn't this the most beautiful music you've ever heard?"  
Nyankomago whispered, her dark eyes dancing.  
Perhaps it was. Something about the woman's voice made me feel  
so calm and content, or maybe it was just the song. . .  
"I love you more dead than alive. There's a captivating  
quality in your hollow eyes. Bones scrupulously cleaned and shining  
white, make good company on these cold winter nights."  
When the band stopped for a break, the vocallist came directly  
to our table. Without asking, she took a chair from the next table and  
sat backwards on it, near my wife and me.  
"All right, who the hell are you and what are you doing in _my_  
city?" she hissed.  
Nyankomago and I exchanged puzzled looks.  
"Don't play with me, micronians," the woman snapped, "you  
think I don't know what you are? I _felt_ you the moment you came into  
the building!"  
  
  
  
  
©1997/2001 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Originally published in the  
Backstabber Preservation Society publication "Sten Yar" Volume 2, Issue  
7, July/Aug 1997. Slightly altered for electronic use. Robotech  
and all borrowed elements thereof are trademarks of Harmony Gold, used  
without permission. I'm not trying to infringe on anyone's copyrights  
or trademarks, or profit from anyone else's ideas. 


	7. Yusenya

Robotech Freedom Fighters  
by Naia Zifu  
  
Chapter Seven: Yusenya  
  
"You _what?_" I cried, knowing exactly what that meant. . .  
The woman smiled devilishly. "Surprised?  
"Well, you don't really look like one," Nyankomago observed.  
"Oh, like _you_ do?"  
She had a point there, of course. I'd just never imagined a  
T'sentrati would--  
"Now who are you and what are you doing in my town?" she  
repeated.  
"My name is Agyei Afrifa," I introduced myself, "and this is my  
wife Nyankomago. We arrived here this morning with that group of  
humans--"  
"Wait a minute-- you arrived _this morning_? You can go out in  
the daytime?" the woman interrupted.  
"Of course," I replied, having forgotten with time that that  
wasn't "normal" for our kind.  
"How?"  
Nyankomago looked at me, hesitating, not sure whether to trust  
her or not. Finally she unclasped the talisman from around her neck  
and held it out for the woman to see.  
"This," she explained, "is how we are able to venture out in  
the daytime."  
The woman stared at the simple golden disc, engraved with  
symbols I'd never understood the meaning of, as if it were the greatest  
thing in the world. Spellbound, she reached to touch the talisman, but  
Nyankomago withdrew it, refastening the hefty chain around her neck and  
tucking it into her shirt again.  
"Now you know who we are," I said, "but who are you?"  
"Yusenya Kuwai," she answered absently. "Where did you get  
those?"  
"I made them," Nyankomago admitted.  
"And I don't suppose you'd consider making another?"  
"Not for a stranger."  
Yusenya sighed. "No, of course not."  
Without another word, she abruptly stood up from the table and  
got back to work.  
"What do you make of her?" I whispered to my wife once Yusenya  
was gone.  
"I don't know yet. I _want_ to trust her, because she's one of  
us, but. . ."  
I knew what she meant. There was something strange about this  
Yusenya Kuwai, I just couldn't seem to put my finger on it. Perhaps it  
was only because she was Tsentrati? I didn't even know there were any  
T'sentrati like us!  
Nyankomago suggested, "we should at least give her a chance,  
Agyei. She deserves at least that much."  
"Oh, all right," I consented, though still not sure it was such  
a good idea.  
"Your blood flows in, warm and saline, tasting like fright,"  
the band sang. "I know every thought, I can sense your pain, as I  
drain away your life."  
I felt a stirring inside me. Was Yusenya _trying_ to arouse  
our feral desires?  
I took my wife by the arm and half-dragged her out of the club.  
Her eyes had changed already.  
"Are you two okay?" Henry asked, startling us back into our-  
selves. "I know it got a little weird in there."  
Nyankomago managed a laugh, albeit not such a reassuring one.  
"We're fine now, thank you," she said. "Maybe we're just a  
little. . .too old for this music."  
"Hey, don't feel bad; it got a little scary for Larry and me in  
there, too, when they did that effect where the woman's eyes were  
glowing and she had those vampire fangs." Henry laughed nervously. "I  
don't know how they did it, but that was just a little too weird for  
me, you know?"  
"Yes, I. . .um, I think I do. . ."  
I asked, "Where are the others?"  
"Tracey and Raymond are still in there," Larry told me. "You  
know them; 'too weird' is never weird enough! The grease monkeys,  
well, you know they wouldn't be seen in a place like that! They took  
off a couple of hours ago to put the kid to bed and get some shuteye  
themselves before they gotta get on those repairs. You know how they  
are, always thinking too much about work and all. Henry and I are  
about to go look for a burger place or something. You interested?"  
"No thank you," I replied. "We were rather hoping for some  
time to ourselves right now."  
"Geez, don't you guys _ever_ eat?" Larry wondered.  
Henry punched him hard in the arm.  
"Sorry about that, sir. Um, Lar didn't mean anything by that.  
Guess we'll be seeing you around, then. Have a nice time."  
"You know, I could do with a little something myself right  
now," Nyankomago hinted, eyes aglow, once they'd left.  
I agreed, "So could I, thanks to Yusenya."  
Blue River might have been a small city, but it had a sordid  
night life. There was bound to be crimes being committed _somewhere_  
in the city.  
"Will you wear your cape again?" I asked playfully.  
She smiled wickedly, bearing her fangs.  
"For you, my love, anything."  
  
Was it my imagination, or were the criminals of Blue River more  
interesting than those I'd fed on before? Most criminals seemed to  
have had bad childhoods and family tragedies, but these were a  
different type; people who stole because they had families to support,  
teen-agers who had watched their parents die horribly in the invasion  
and were only trying to survive by any means necessary, old soldiers  
made demented by the horrors of war. . . It almost seemed a shame they  
had to die. _Almost._  
"I can see why Yusenya is so fond of this place," Nyankomago  
said. "The criminals here are all so. . .palatable."  
"Have you gotten your fill?" I asked.  
"I don't think I could hold another drop," she replied  
contentedly.  
She promptly returned to herself, and, as herself, began to  
seem uncomfortable in the showy leather costume.  
"Just as well. It's nearly morning," I noticed.  
Though our talismans allowed us to go out in the daytime with-  
out evaporating, to feed in broad daylight would still attract a great  
deal of attention.  
"Maybe we should go back to the motel."  
Coyly, she suggested, "Uh, maybe we should fly there. I'd  
really rather not be seen walking the streets like this."  
  
  
  
©1997/2001 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Originally published in the  
Backstabber Preservation Society publication "Sten Yar" Volume 2, Issue  
9, Dec 1997/Jan 1998. Slightly altered for electronic use. Robotech  
and all borrowed elements thereof are trademarks of Harmony Gold, used  
without permission. I'm not trying to infringe on anyone's copyrights  
or trademarks, or profit from anyone else's ideas. 


	8. The Mystery Rider

Robotech Freedom Fighters  
by Naia Zifu  
  
Chapter Eight: The Mystery Rider  
  
I was abruptly awakened just after noon by the sound of  
explosions outside. The Invid were attacking and all our best mecha  
were down. The Cyclones were the only relatively undamaged mecha we  
had, hidden in the grove outside of Blue River. There was little  
chance of reaching them with all those lobsters out there, but we  
couldn't just sit around doing nothing!  
A lone Cyclone rider leapt into the fray, but it wasn't one of  
ours. We didn't even have a red Cyclone! The mysterious rider fired  
off miniature rockets at two of the Invid, then reconfigured and took a  
flying leap at another, planting its right foot right through the  
lobster's sensor eye.  
"I don't know about anybody else, but I'm gonna try to make it  
to my bike while this guy's got 'em distracted," Larry called.  
"Wait, Lar!" cried Raymond. "You'll only get yourself killed  
that way!"  
"Damned fool," Henry muttered. "Well, _somebody's_ gotta go  
out after him!" Then he did, narrowly avoiding the swipe of one  
lobster's claw as it dove.  
Large, double-edged blades emerged from disc-shaped mountings  
on the red Cyclone's forearms. It leapt at the nearest Invid,  
puncturing its armour as it moved to dodge. That strange green liquid  
spurted from the wound like blood from a human's jugular. Apparently  
it was Invid blood after all.  
Sneaking in from behind, a Pincer caught the Cyclone with a  
claw and threw it hard against the side of a building. The dazed rider  
struggled to stand as the Invid came around for another attack.  
Mini-missiles split the lobster before it got a chance, shock  
waves and debris from the explosion knocking over the red Cyclone just  
as it managed to stand. Our green Cyclones laid down cover fire for  
the red until it could stand again. As Henry's missiles found two more  
lobsters, Larry's pulse rifle wounded another.  
The red Cyclone, back on its feet, took out a Shock Trooper  
that was blasting defenceless humans as they ran screaming in the  
streets, Larry shot off four missiles at another, holing it as it  
tried to take to the sky.  
The last dyad of Invid were dealt with by Henry and the  
mystery rider, with Henry using the last of his missiles on a fast-  
moving scout that had been avoiding all his pulse rifle shots.  
Henry and Larry knelt to reconfigure again, stepping out of  
their mecha and manipulating it into motorcycle form, and removing the  
mirrored helmets of their riding armour.  
The red Cyclone rider reconfigured as well, but the rider  
didn't remove the helmet, instead simply getting onto the bike,  
intending to ride away without explanation. But Larry rode his own  
Cyclone directly in front of the red, nearly causing a collision.  
"Uh-uh, buddy, you're not gonna get away that easy," he called  
to the mystery rider. "You're going nowhere until we get some answers.  
Like, for starters, who you are and where you found that Cyclone!"  
The rider switched off the ignition and dismounted, walking the  
Cyclone to an out-of-business filling station nearby. We all followed  
as if on a string, curious about the rider's bizarre actions. Where a  
flat canopy sheltered the filling pumps, the rider stopped and set the  
bike upright. Finally the helmet came off.  
Raymond, ever cool and collected, was the first to find his  
voice. "Hey, you're the one from the night-club! I remember you.  
You're a good singer!"  
"Thanks," Yusenya replied with a smile. "Jhiri tan T'sentrati  
Yusenya Kuwai, rock star _and_ freedom fighter. (I'm multi-talented.)  
Always a pleasure to meet a micronian with such great taste!"  
"Where'd you get that Cyclone?" Larry asked. "I've never seen  
anything like it!"  
"The bike I found in a shipwreck a while back. The armour I  
took off a dead woman I figured wouldn't need it anymore anyway. And  
the CADS, well, I got those from a weapons trader a week or two ago-- I  
won't tell you what I had to trade for _those_ mothers! Put them on  
myself, though. Slows the bike down a little and uses up a lot of  
energy, but I think it's worth it for all the _pain_ they inflict!"  
Tracey wondered, "Are you headed for the Reflex Point like we  
are, Yusenya?"  
"The Reflex Point?" repeated Yusenya. "What, you guys got a  
_death wish_ or something? Those puny Cyclones don't stand a chance  
against that many Invid!"  
"We have more mecha than that," Henry retorted. "It's just  
that most of it was trounced by Invid the other day, and our mecha  
mechanics haven't gotten a chance to work on them yet."  
"What've you got?"  
"Let's see. . .we got Tracey's red Alpha, three green Cyclones,  
and a couple of Regults given to us by some T'sentrati friends  
recently," he replied. "We aren't totally defenceless, you know!"  
"Well, I'm not affiliated with any particular group of freedom  
fighters at the moment," Yusenya said thoughtfully, probably more to  
herself than any of us, "but freedom fighting does stave off the  
Imperative, and I like the adventure. . . Oh, what the hell. Sure,  
I'll go with you to the Reflex Point."  
"Huh? I thought you said we had a _death wish_ for wanting to  
go there," Larry reminded her.  
"Kara-brek!" Yusenya cried, her blue eyes sparkling like  
sapphires. "At least if I die, it'll be a warrior's death!"  
Nyankomago whispered, "Do you think she's doing this just to  
earn our trust, or does she seem sincere to you?"  
"I'm still not sure," I answered, "but like you said, we've  
got to at least give her a chance."  
"I really should be going now," Yusenya said, putting on her  
mirrored helmet and making sure every crack was sealed tightly before  
she re-mounted her Cyclone and started it up on conventional power.  
"But I'll see you again tonight at the club, okay?"  
She rode away without waiting for a reply.  
"Now there goes one _weird_ little alien," Larry said with a  
low whistle.  
"Yeah," Tracey agreed. "Isn't she cool?"  
  
Again seated backwards on a chair at our table, but actually  
having been invited this time, Yusenya said, "I didn't know if you  
would come. I know we didn't get off to a good start yesterday,  
but--"  
"You've more than made up for it with your actions today,  
Yusenya," my wife insisted. "Thank you for your help this afternoon."  
"Yeah, I'm fine as long as my armour isn't breached," she said.  
"You know, I meant it about going with you to the Reflex Point. I  
guess I'm still idealistic enough to think I can make a difference  
against the Invid. Pretty naïve, eh?"  
I laughed aloud, understanding that feeling all too well.  
"But we do a lot of travelling during the day, Yusenya," my  
wife said. "Are you going to wear full Cyclone armour constantly?"  
"I hoped we could come to an agreement about that," Yusenya  
said. "Do you know what it feels like not to be able to go out at all  
during the day? And to know it's going to be that way for the rest of  
your life, and you're _immortal?_"  
"No, I don't," I admitted.  
I'd been lucky enough to have a wife knowledgeable in the ways  
of sorcery, who was willing to help me from the beginning.  
"Well, it _isn't_ fun," Yusenya complained. "Of course, I  
_had_ come to accept it until you two showed up with your magic charms  
and everything, and started me thinking about it all over again.:  
Nyankomago was sympathetic. "I really do want to help you,  
Yusenya--"  
"But?"  
"No, no 'buts.' I _will_ help, but only because of what you're  
doing for us. But of course we'll have to ask something in return."  
"Of course. What did you have in mind?"  
Nyankomago smiled craftily. "Your red Cyclone and riding  
armour."  
Yusenya seemed about to protest, but thought better of it. She  
nodded silently, crestfallen.  
"Good. As long as you remain loyal, you'll be allowed use of  
them. But should you prove disloyal they will be destroyed-- with you  
still _in_ them, if necessary."  
"I understand," she agreed quietly. "You have my word as  
T'sentrati I won't betray you."  
"I _know_ you won't."  
Yusenya glanced at the time, sighed, then stood up and  
replaced the chair.  
"I'd better get back to work now. Tuesday's my last night  
here, but if you'd rather not wait around I can always catch up to you  
later."  
"That's okay," I replied. "It's only a couple of days. We'll  
wait."  
"Dessu," she said casually. "You know, I get off work at two,  
so if you guys are hungry. . ."  
I smiled. "We'd be glad to."  
  
  
  
©1998/2001 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Originally published in the  
Backstabber Preservation Society publication "Sten Yar" Volume 2, Issue  
11, Apr/May 1998. Slightly altered for electronic use. Robotech  
and all borrowed elements thereof are trademarks of Harmony Gold, used  
without permission. I'm not trying to infringe on anyone's copyrights  
or trademarks, or profit from anyone else's ideas. 


End file.
